A Little Unwell: A Constantine x Spn Fanfic
by Cati-dono
Summary: [ON HIATUS] While visiting Hell, John Constantine stumbles across a piece of evidence that leads him to the Winchesters' door with shocking news about an old friend... NOTE: this is long and rambling. I may take forever to update. Contains very light Destiel, FYI
1. Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself

**Disclaimer:** Supernatural and Constantine are both the properties of their respective owners and not mine. I just love them to bits.

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><p>"Dean Winchester I presume?"<p>

"And who the hell are you?" Dean asked, peering suspiciously at the stranger on the doorstep. Behind him, he heard Sam quietly draw his knife, ready to fight.

The man outside looked around uneasily, as if afraid they were being watched. He was dressed, oddly enough, in a suit and tie, although when dean looked closer he noticed that the hems and edges of the fabric were smoking slightly, as though the man had just escaped from a burning building. In one hand, he held an enormous golden cross-shaped gun, although he seemed to have forgotten it was there. Overall, he looked tired and slightly scared, and Dean's gut instinct told him that they weren't in any danger. Still, he didn't want to let his guard down.

"My name's Constantine, John Constantine. I guess you could say that we're in the same line of work. Look, can I come in? This isn't something I can whisper through a half-open door."

"Hey, Buddy, no offense, but-" dean began, but a clatter behind him made him stop. Looking over his shoulder, he was astonished to see that Sam had dropped his knife. He was shakily lowering himself into a chair, eyes wide as her stared at the newcomer. There was a strange look on his face that Dean, if he didn't know better, might have called awe. "Sammy?"

"Let him in Dean."

"Hang on now Sam-"

"Dean just do it!" Sam snapped. His eyes darted nervously around the room, and he unconsciously began to massage the scar on his left palm. Grumpily, Dean stepped aside and allowed Constantine to hurry inside. Casually tossing his coat across a bed, the man sat across from Sam and stared at him intently.

"Do you know me?" His voice was cautious, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Feeling somehow left out, dean stomped over to the mini-fridge and grabbed two beers. After a moment, he grudgingly picked up a third and went back to the table. Constantine accepted his with a nod of thanks, but Sam just kept staring, eyes glittering strangely in the crappy motel lighting.

"I recognize you now, once I heard the name. He used to talk about you, sometimes, when he was really furious." Sam's voice shook slightly.

"Who? Sam you're not making sense." Dean leaned against the wall and sipped his beer, trying to keep an eye on his brother and this Constantine guy at the same time.

"Him, Dean!" Sam was squeezing his hand so hard that the last inch of scab had cracked, and blood was oozing sluggishly onto the table, but he didn't seem to notice. "Lucifer. This guy cheated the Devil."

For a moment there was silence, as Dean and Constantine stared at Sam. when they spoke, it was at the same time, questions overlapping.

"Cheated the devil? Sam, how-"

"How did you know that?" Constantine nervously pushed his sleeves back, and Dean noticed two sets of thick, pearly scar tissue crisscrossing his wrists.

Sam seemed not to hear either of them, attention focused inwards. "When I was trapped, in the cage, Lucifer and Michael would fight. Sometimes Lucifer would bring up this man, Constantine. He said that Constantine was supposed to be his, should have been his, that Michael's side stole you out from under his nose." Sam too fixed his eyes on the scars.

Constantine was staring at Sam like he had two heads, breathing a little too rapid, face pale. "My god," he whispered. "The rumors are true. The apocalypse, you being trapped in the cage with Lou… that all really happened to you? Holy shit." The look he gave the Winchesters was one of pure respect.

Ignoring the other man, Dean crossed the room and grabbed Sam's shoulders, shaking them gently, then with more urgency. He knew where Sam's thought had gone, and it wasn't anyplace they should. "Sam? Sammy! Come on dude, snap out of it!"

Sam gasped and jerked away from Dean, blinking his eyes back into focus. He stood and went into the bathroom, where Dean could hear him splashing water on his face. Constantine watched curiously, but the finality in Dean's eyes warned him not to ask. Neither of them spoke until Sam rejoined them at the table, hand freshly bandaged.

"Alright now, you." Dean pointed his beer at Constantine accusingly. "How did you end up on the Devil's most wanted list?"

The man took a deep breath before responding. "When I was fifteen(?), I tried to commit suicide," he began. "I was raised a Roman Catholic." He looked at the brothers as though that should explain everything, but Dean just stared blankly back.

"And?"

"Dean, suicide is one of the worst sins a catholic can commit," Sam replied impatiently. "You commit suicide, you go straight to Hell. Fast pass, no ifs ands or buts."

"But that's so stupid!" Dean argued. "Why the hell would you be damned automatically like that? And besides, he's not dead." Dean waved the beer bottle again for emphasis. Sam rolled his eyes and gave Constantine a long-suffering look, which cause the older man to briefly crack a smile. However, he sobered as he continued his story.

"I was, technically. I flat-lined in the ambulance. They resuscitated me in under a minute but, well, you both know how long a minute is." Dean and Sam both flinched, almost imperceptibly, but Constantine continued as if he hadn't noticed.

"After that, I knew I was damned for all time, but I also knew I was never going to be trapped there if I could help it. So I became a hunter. I thought if I could exorcise enough demons I could maybe earn myself a heavenly get-out-of-jail-free card. Not that that worked."

"So what, you figured slicing your wrists again would somehow cancel out the first time?" Dean interrupted.

"Dean!"

"No Sam, it's alright." Constantine gave Dean a thin smile. "Nothing like that, I'm not an idiot. It's a long story though, and not why I'm here. All you need to know is that I finally did something good enough to get me off the hook. Literally." This time Constantine gave a malicious little grin at their uncomfortable shuffling.

"Ok, sure, I'll buy that. But why are you here? From the sound of it, you're pretty good at what you do. Why do you need our help?" Dean kept his voice steady, but a curl of apprehension was rising inside him.

"I don't need your help. I've-" the man hesitated. "I've found something that belongs to you." Constantine dug in the pocket of his pants for a minute, then produced a tangled, foul-smelling knot of something and dropped it on the table.

Dean saw that there was some kind of cord there, which seemed to be tangled around one of those plastic bracelets that they give hospital patients. He was about to ask Constantine why he thought these were their problem when Sam's hand shot out. Wordlessly, he held up a small gold object, which dean realized was an amulet. Looking closer, he saw that it wasn't just any amulet either. The last time he had seen this amulet, it had been sitting forlornly in a trash can in some motel, where he had dumped it after Cas gave up. Of all the places it could have gone, it ended up in some random hunter's pocket?

With numb fingers, Dean picked up the bracelet, which was warped and blackened. Tilting it carefully, he could just make out the stark black lettering, half-ruined.

Novak, James 819834

Male, DOB 6/- - -

Bootbock Menta- - -

The rest of the lettering was obscured by how warped and sooty the bracelet was. _Cas._ Something squeezed inside his chest, and he had to clear his throat several times before anything would come out.

"Where did you find this?" Dean's voice shook a little, but he didn't notice.

Constantine hesitated slightly. "I have this… ability I guess you would call it. I don't know why, but since I was brought back in that ambulance, I've been able to kind of… slip through the cracks between here and Hell." Sam exhaled softly and Dean raised his eyebrows, but when neither spoke Constantine continued. "Sometimes, depending on the job, I have to go there. On my last case, I accidentally stumbled across an enormous lakebed. It was empty except for a man, at the very center, who was surrounded by demons and hellhounds."

"What did he look like?" Dean interrupted urgently. Constantine narrowed his eyes and glared at Dean.

"He was in Hell, Dean. What do you _think_ he looked like?" Constantine saw pain flash behind Dean's eyes and sighed softly. "He was tall, maybe, with dark hair? I couldn't see very well, he was far away and I didn't want to risk going closer because of the demons."

"You didn't try to save him?"

Constantine's patience snapped. "Dammit Dean, just because I'm there doesn't mean I can save everyone, or anyone! I'm just an observer. I didn't even know who it was, for all I knew he was a serial rapist and he deserved it!"

Dean looked away, face flushed, and didn't respond. Sam moved his hand as if to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but stopped himself. Nodding at Constantine, he prompted, "Okay, so there was this guy. What happened?"

"He saw me, somehow, or sensed me, I don't know. He kind of stretched his arm out to me." Constantine demonstrated. "There was this blast of cool, fresh air, and a kind of rushing, fluttering noise, and then the bracelet hit me in the chest, with the amulet around it. That was when the demons around him noticed me and I had to escape. I tried to go back, but I could never find the place again, like it kept moving."

"And so you just assumed that helping some guy being tortured in Hell deliver a psych ward bracelet was the right course of action?" Dean's voice was rough.

"Actually, it's happened before," Constantine replied, but didn't elaborate.

After a second Sam asked, "But still, how did you know that it was for us?" Wordlessly, Constantine gestured at dean to turn the bracelet over.

Smeared in ugly red-brown across the back were the words "Dean Winchester" and a single bloody fingerprint. As Dean traced the marks with his finger, his left shoulder prickled, although the scarred handprint was long gone. A rushing sound filled his ears that had nothing to do with angel wings.

"I have to go," Dean said abruptly, dropping the bracelet on the table like it had burned him. Sam tried to say something but Dean was already out the door, the Impala's engines roaring as it sped off into the night.


	2. Woke Up This Morning & the Sun Was Gone

**Disclaimer:** Supernatural and Constantine are both the properties of their respective owners and not mine. I just love them to bits.

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><p>Constantine shot Sam a questioning look as the sound of the Impala's engines faded. Sam sighed.<p>

"Cas, Castiel I guess I should say, was Dean's friend. Friend isn't really enough though- Dean saw him as a second brother. He was the angel who saved Dean from Hell, who rebelled against heaven for him, who rose and fell and did it all to help Dean. He was always there, whenever we needed him, even after I- after Lucifer killed him, he somehow came back and tried to make things right.

"It wasn't until after Cas died that Dean and I realized how much we owe him, and how little we ever really did for him. It broke Dean's heart." Constantine shifted slightly and Sam looked up at him reproachfully. "And not in any kind of gay-lovers way."

"I never said it was."

"No, but that's what people usually think. It was that deep of a friendship." Sam sighed again, deeper, rubbing his right thumb against his scarred hand unconsciously. When he realized what he was doing, he forced himself to stop. "And now you show up at our door months later with an amulet Dean never thought he'd see again, a bracelet for a mental hospital, and news that while we've been going on with our lives up here, Castiel has been trapped in the pit for all this time. So yeah, I would say he's got a right to be freaking out."

"But I don't understand. This Castiel is an angel, right? He had the power to go into Hell and not only come back out, but take your brother with him. And now you're telling me he's being held captive by a couple of hellhounds and a demon or two? This doesn't seem right."

"It's not." Sam frowned thoughtfully at the table. "Was there anything else that you noticed? Anything on him, or around him, or in him that seemed out of place?"

Constantine thought for a moment. "Nothing. If there was anything on him, I couldn't see it through… everything else. He was in pretty bad shape."

The two men sat in silence for a long time, neither willing to talk about why Constantine was there, neither able to think of anything else. Constantine pulled a worn paperback from his coat pocket, and Sam flipped open his laptop and started aimlessly typing in search terms. A while later, they heard the soft purr of the Impala's engines as Dean returned. Constantine stood up hastily and muttered something about needing to pick up more Nicorette before rushing out the door, squeezing past Dean as he entered with a bag of McDonalds.

"What Sammy, did you profess your undying love to him or something?" Dean's voice was light as he kicked the door shut behind him, but he refused to look Sam in the eye. Sam said nothing, only watched as Dean deposited the food on the table and shed his coat, which he threw haphazardly on top of Constantine's. The silence stretched awkwardly until Dean spoke.

"Well?"'

"Well what?"

"Well aren't you gonna try to make me talk about 'how I feel,' or pull some sort of touchy-feely Dr. Phil crap or something?"

"Dean, what do you want me to do? You never want to talk about what's bothering you, so why-"

"Who says it's bothering me?"

Sam sat back in his chair and stared at Dean in disbelief. "Are you serious Dean? You ditched us and drove off without a word and didn't come back for" -Sam checked his watch- "two hours! This guy just showed up at the door with the news that the angel who's saved both our asses more than once is trapped in Hell, and his vessel is locked up in a mental hospital somewhere. Are you telling me that _doesn't_ bother you?"

Dean turned away angrily, sitting on one of the beds to unnecessarily clean and check all of his weapons again. Just when Sam thought he wasn't going to say anything, dean spoke, head still bent, eyes focused on his weapons.

"Of course it bothers me Sammy. After what-" he swallowed hard before continuing. 'What Cas did for us? Hell yes it bothers me. But my sitting here talking to you about it isn't going to get him out of there." Dean finally met Sam's gaze, and the pain in his eyes made Sam's heart ache. "Now that I know Cas isn't gone? I can't leave him alone Sam. I just can't."

"We're not going to, Dean." Sam put as much reassurance in his voice as he could. "As soon as Constantine gets back, we'll make a plan, get some sleep, and head out in the morning. Look," Sam spun the computer around to show Dean the screen. "I've already gotten the address of the hospital where Jimmy is. We're gonna get him back Dean. I promise." Dean nodded once and turned away again, leaving Sam alone with the jeering voice in his head which told him that they had no chance.

When Constantine returned, they decided for economy's sake that it made no sense for him to rent a room for what was left of the night, so Dean and Sam just shared one of the beds. There were no problems with the arrangement until the next morning, when Sam was awakened by Dean's fist smashing into his jaw. Swearing, he rolled off the bed and stood, looking down at his brother.

Sam could see the beads of sweat standing out on Dean's face as he flailed once more and then sat up with a gasp, startled out of sleep. His eyes stared blankly for a minute before they focused on Sam, who was watching with worried eyes. He was all too familiar with the nightmares, the waking up in a cold sweat knowing that something important was gone. The same thing had happened to him for months after he had lost Jess.

"Dean?"

"I'm going to shower," Dean muttered, stomping into the bathroom and slamming the door. The noise woke Constantine, who sat up blinking. He had slept in his suit, although Sam had offered him some of Dean's clothes to borrow, and his white shirt was wrinkled.

"What happened to him?" he slurred, rubbing his stubbly chin. Sam didn't answer, instead making his way to the table to look over the directions to the Bootbock Mental Hospital. The GPS website said they were about five hours away, which meant three with Dean driving. Actually, Sam realized, they hadn't discussed how they were getting there. He turned to Constantine, who was stretching a crick in his neck.

"So, um, I don't know how you got here, but the way Dean drives it'll probably be easier if you just carpool with us. You mind leaving your car here? We can always come back for it after."

Constantine hesitated for a moment, the finally nodded. "Sure. I know a place not too far from here where I can leave it until we get back."

Sam nodded. "I'm just gonna go get some coffee and bagels from the gas station across the way."

By the time Sam got back, Dean was out of the shower and Constantine was sitting at the table examining the duffle bag of goodies that Dean always brought with him everywhere. As Sam put the food on the table, Constantine pulled a long stake-like object out of the bag, one made of a pure silvery material that seemed to glow softly in the weak morning sunlight. He whistled softly.

"What the hell is this for?"

Dean's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he responded in a normal enough voice. "It's a knife that kills angels. I keep it with me just in case they decide that they don't feel like putting up with our existence anymore."

"What I wouldn't have given for this a year ago" Constantine muttered, carefully sliding the weapon back into the bag.

"You had angel troubles too?" Dean sounded almost interested.

"Like you wouldn't believe. Although then again, maybe you would." Constantine did not seem inclined to give any more details, so they ate the bagels in silence. When they were done, Sam and Dean packed what little gear they had left lying around and the three men headed out the door.

The parking lot was totally empty except for the Impala and a beat-up old NYC taxi-cab, with a dented hood that reminded both Winchesters of Sam's car after a demon had fallen out of a second story window onto it.

"Dude," Dean said sadly, "Somebody must've boosted your car and left you this piece of crap. Tough luck." Constantine shoved roughly past him and went to the Taxi, popping the trunk as he did.

"This _is_ my car, asshole. It used to belong to a friend of mine, and I promised him I'd look after it." He gave the driver's side door a practiced jimmy, and it sprang open. With an irritated shake of his head, Constantine got in. "I'll meet you at the car dealership up the road." Closing the door with a snap, he sped off. Sam gave his brother a disapproving glare.

"Nice, Dean."

"What?"

"We've know the guy for eight hours and you've already pissed him off." Sam walked over to the impala and squeezed in.

"Aww come on Sam! How was I supposed to know he was all sentimental over such a piece of junk?" Dean rubbed the Impala's hood as he went by, crooning softly to it. "Even if it was a Porsche, it wouldn't have nothing on you, Baby."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean can we get on with this? He's going to leave without us if we don't get there soon."

"Shut up man, you're drowning out the Stones!"

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

With a squeal of tires, the impala peeled out, heading south towards Bootbock, Kansas.


	3. Just As I Thought it was Going Alright

**Disclaimer:** Supernatural and Constantine are both the properties of their respective owners and not mine. I just love them to bits.

**Author's Note:** Here's chapter 3! Sorry it took so long, I hope the gap between 3 & 4 will be smaller. Also, I'm a little shaky on the timeline, so apologies if that is at all incorrect. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!

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><p>True to Sam's estimate, they were rolling into Bootbock Kansas in under three hours. Dean's hands clenched reflexively on the wheel as they passed the turn-off to the town's reservoir, but only Constantine noticed and he didn't comment. During the drive, the brothers had, bit by bit, filled him in on the details about who Castiel was and what had happened to him.<p>

Dean swung the Impala up a winding road that led to a large, clean-looking building perched on the hillside. A sign by the main road proclaimed it to be the Bootbock Mental Institute. As the impala grated its way up the hill, Constantine spoke.

"Remind me again what the plan is?"

"We're Jimmy's coworkers. We heard he was here and wanted to check on him. Jimmy can back up our story if he has to," Dean replied confidently.

"Dean," Sam said hesitantly, "I think you're forgetting that this is a mental hospital. Jimmy might not be in any condition to say anything after what happened to him."

Dean glared at Sam in irritation. "Always the pessimist huh? Look, Jimmy's probably only locked up here because he started talking about Cas in front of people. Again. This is not as complicated as you're making it."

Constantine spoke up from the back seat. "Dean, you said that Castiel has 'died' a couple times before this. Who's to say Jimmy even came back with him? For all we know, this Jimmy guy is in a coma."

Dean parked the car a little too abruptly and turned to glare at the other two. "Okay then geniuses, what's your plan?"

"Constantine goes in first, alone," Sam said immediately. "He finds out as much as he can about where Jimmy is and how he is without raising too many red flags, and then you and I go in a tomorrow or the next day as family members or something."

"Oh, right, 'cause that'll work."

"Look Dean, it's the best chance we've got okay?" Sam's frustration showed on his face. "I'm just trying to help Cas the best way we can."

Dean didn't respond for a moment, and Sam could see the indecision in his face. Finally, he gave a stiff nod. Constantine immediately levered himself out of the car and started up the steps, unconsciously adjusting his tie as he went. Sam and Dean waited in the car, the quiet settling uncomfortable around them.

"So, once we talk to Jimmy and find out what exactly happened, how are we going to get Cas out of Hell?" Sam broke the silence, watching Dean carefully out of the corner of his eye.

Dean shrugged moodily and pulled a flask out of his pocket, unscrewing the cap. The smell of Jack Daniels filled the car, but before he could even take a sip Sam snatched the bottle out of his hand and dumped the entire thing out the window.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean yelled, snatching at the now empty container.

"Sam glared at him. "Look Dean, you've been drinking like a guy who lost his brother. And I didn't say anything because I've been there too. But now we have a chance of saving Cas. So you had damn well better stay sober from now on."

Dean blinked at his brother, surprised by the anger in his tone. He tried to think back to the last time he hadn't gone through an entire bottle of whiskey in a day. With a start, he realized that he could count the times since Cas died that he'd been completely sober on one hand. He gave a sigh and rubbed his hands across his eyes, nodding.

"Fine. Do you think Bobby might have some sort of ritual that we could use to summon Cas out of there?"

Sam relaxed marginally into his seat, glad that his brother was being sensible for once. "Maybe. I'll call him and ask."

Bobby didn't know anything off the top of his head, but he said he would check one or two ancient manuscripts that might help. No sooner had Sam hung up the phone than an idea struck him. "Constantine said he could get into Hell, right? Maybe he could take us with him?"

"Doesn't matter, we wouldn't be able to find Cas anyway; they hid him, remember?"

"Yeah, but maybe we could find a way to use Jimmy as a sort of divine GPS. Sharing space with an angel for that long, there's no way it didn't leave any sort of connection. It's worth a shot Dean."

Dean hadn't come up with an answer yet when Constantine strode out of the building, a smug grin on his face. Sliding into the backseat, he announced, "Okay, so there's good news and bad news. Good news, your friend is in the minimum security open-visitor section, so you don't even have to pretend to be related to see him. Bad news is, he doesn't seem to be particularly coherent." Constantine dropped a slim manila folder over Sam's shoulder, and Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You stole his file?"

"Not stole," Constantine corrected, settling into the backseat as Dean pulled out of the lot. "Copied, with permission, for my thesis paper on schizophrenia. I've got about six other patients' files in there too, just for cover." He widened his eyes innocently. "Sarah at the front desk was just so happy to help me with my work."

When they got back to the motel, Constantine came into Dean and Sam's room and the three of them opened the folder on the table, spreading out the papers until they found Jimmy's.

"Okay, Jimmy Novak." Sam studied the paper. "it says here that he was admitted about two months ago." He frowned. "So that's what, a few days after he went into the lake? Says here that he was found lying on the shore of the reservoir by a few hikers, totally naked. When they woke him, he had no idea where he was, and he kept flinching and talking to people that weren't there, total gibberish. But he wasn't aggressive, so they put him in the car and got him up to the hospital here."

Dean picked up the next paper in the stack. "'Shows symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia coupled with mild multiple-personality disorder, sciophobia, and severe enosiophobia.' What the hell does any of that mean?"

Sam already had his laptop open and was typing away. "Well, schizophrenia, obviously, that's where the person invents sights and sounds that aren't actually there."

"So like thinking that you're the human vessel of an angel of the lord?"

"Pretty much, yeah. except this says paranoid, so it's linked to a feeling that the world is out to get you when it isn't. Multiple-personality disorder, that's pretty self-explanatory, but the phobias…" Sam trailed off, letting out a deep breath.

Constantine looked over his shoulder at the screen. "Sciophobia, the fear of shadows, and enosiophobia, the fear of-" he squinted at the computer screen. "committing an unforgiveable sin?" He glanced up at the Winchesters in confusion. "Any of this sounding like the Jimmy Novak you know?" Both men shook their heads silently. "So I guess it's safe to say that he might actually deserve to be locked up in the loony bin."

"The real question is, does this change our plan?" Sam looked at the other two questioningly.

"We had a plan?" Constantine asked sardonically, lazily tipping his chair back on two legs.

"Sort of," Sam replied. "We thought that if Bobby had some sort of spell we could use to get Cas out, then we could use Jimmy as a sort of landline and you could take me and Dean into Hell with you. Can you even bring other people into Hell?"

Constantine righted his chair with a loud bang, staring in disbelief at the Winchesters. "Are you serious? I mean, maybe I can, I've never tried, but even if it's possible, you think I should be bringing you, of all people?"

"Who else are you gonna bring, Patrick Swayze?" Dean asked sarcastically, but Constantine shot him such a fierce look that he subsided.

"I don't think the two of you have thought this out very well." Constantine took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "What I mean to say is, Sam's still trying to cope with Hell in the living world here, and Dean you spent four months trapped there not so long ago. I only dart in and out occasionally and I'm scared to death of the place. I am not bringing either of you to Hell just so you can have a panic attack or some sort of flashback and get trapped there. You understand me?"

Sam looked away, and Dean watched his brother dig his finger into the scar on his hand until it seemed like the stitches might burst. Thinking of his own past, Dean couldn't control the shudder that went through his body, and when he looked up he knew that Constantine had seen it too.

"You're right," Dean admitted. "Sam, your gourd is already cracked enough as it is. There's no way going back into that place, even if it's not exactly where you've been, is going to be healthy for you." Sam started to protest, but Dean continued, "besides, remember what happened the last time we both went off on out-of-body experiences at the same time? If Pamela hadn't been there we both would've had our throats slit. Someone's gotta stay here and keep watch, I don't know how long this thing is gonna take." Sam nodded unhappily.

"I should be able to handle this one by myself." Constantine tried to sound confident, but there was a small tremor of uncertainty in his tone.

"You won't be by yourself," Dean replied. "I'm coming too."

Sam turned to Dean angrily. "No you're not, Dean! You got just as messed up as I did-"

Dean cut him off sharply. "No, Sam, I didn't. I was in Hell for four months, which is a freaking vacation in Fiji compared to the year you were in Lucifer's cage." He twisted one corner of his mouth up in a humorless smile. "Besides, I wasn't even on the rack for the last part of it." Dean's stomach threatened to revolt, but he thought of Cas and ignored it. "I've come to terms with what I did and what happened down there. Besides man, this is Cas. All those times he saved my ass, and you expect me to let someone else save him now? Not a chance."

"Dean-"

"That's it Sam, discussion's over." Dean turned to Constantine, who had been silently watching the exchange, and raised his eyebrows, daring the other man to contradict him.

Constantine raised his hands in mock surrender. "Look, not my fight. you want to come, fine, but I'm warning you, you go down and I may not be able to get you out. Hell, I don't even know if I can get you there in the first place. I've never exactly had a volunteer."

He pushed himself to his feet. "Tomorrow I'm going to find some supplies while you're visiting your friend. I'm going to sleep now, and I suggest you do the same." Constantine swept out of the room, and as the door swung shut Dean heard him mutter "god I need a smoke."


End file.
